The Christmas Question
by LittleSixx
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, Dean has been acting weird, and Blaise puts the pieces together about two seconds before Dean drops down to one knee.


_A/N: Just trying to write myself out of this writer's block. Can be taken as an addition to "Inked" but is really a standalone ficlet._

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Blaise would never say Dean was acting suspicious.

They'd been dating well over a year and he understood Dean's little quirks. Blaise would make food and Dean would steal bites at every stage of the process. He tended to leave his towels on the bathroom floor less than a metre from the basket and would press his freezing feet against Blaise's ankles to wake him up in the morning.

But Blaise was hopelessly in love. "Arse over tits," as Bastien would say. Dean Thomas was three inches taller than him with abs Blaise couldn't help but touch. He had the kindest, warmest eyes and a smile that made Blaise's heart do a little flip in his chest. In lieu of all that, Blaise would say Dean was "fucking perfect." However, when he spotted a receipt on the bedside table in the middle of December, Dean snatched it up before he could read it.

"It's nothing," Dean said in a way that sounded like it was definitely something.

"You would tell me if it was, yes?"

"Of course," Dean insisted. "You know I would."

He let it go until Dean started acting strange. He sent letters to Blaise's friends and refused to let Blaise read them. There were a couple moments when he caved into temptation. He asked Draco and Theo what Dean had written, but they just smiled and changed the subject. He feared they were planning a surprise party and considered moving back to Italy to avoid it.

Blaise put those thoughts aside on Christmas Eve. It was a rare night when he and Dean were alone with no commitments the following morning. Blaise planned a very long, enjoyable night that began with dinner and ended with Dean blissed out underneath him. Except Dean managed to fidget throughout the entire meal.

"Do you need to use the loo?"

"No," Dean said with a wan smile. "Just anxious for gifts."

"We are only giving each other one present. What could possibly have you so excited?"

"I am not sure what you will say to yours," Dean admitted. "I'm a bit nervous, a bit excited, mostly shaky ..."

"Right, well ... I suppose we can exchange gifts before dessert."

"Yes!"

Blaise grinned. He had boyfriends before, technically, but none that felt worth bringing home, and certainly none that made him comfortable. It was the sort of love that had Blaise looking at a future where Dean was fully moved-in, without a flat to speak of. A love that had them exchanging vows and waking up next to each other every morning, even if Blaise was greeted by Dean's cold-arse feet.

They made their way to the living area and Blaise picked up the box wrapped in red paper with little Snitches patterned across it.

Dean, practically jumping out of his socks, asked, "Can I go first?"

"Yeah," Blaise nodded. "Yes, of course you can."

Dean half-shouted, "Great!" then fished around in his pockets for something. He mumbled, "Shit, I know it was here somewhere. Leave it to me to forget where I put the bloody—ah!" He pulled a small square box from the pocket of his jeans.

Blaise's gift was entirely forgotten.

He croaked out a hesitant, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that ... ?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. He smiled and Blaise's heart raced a thousand times a minute when Dean repeated, "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Oh my ... What the ..." Blaise stumbled off before weakly gesturing to the box in his hands. "I only knitted you a jumper."

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "That's fantastic! Here, give it to me and I'll try it on."

Blaise looked at him wide-eyed and said, "I think it best we do yours first." His arms shook. He felt the jumper moving around inside the box, so he placed it on the sofa. When he turned back, Dean was down on one knee and Blaise's heart fell to somewhere around his toes.

"Right, okay, um ..." Dean swallowed thickly and appeared to forget what he had prepared to say. "Obviously I'm about to ask you to marry me."

Blaise ran his fingers through his hair and let out an exasperated, "Yes, I have worked out that much."

"I love you."

"Also good to know."

Dean laughed and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Last Christmas we had been dating for over six months but I was still worried that you would find someone far better-looking than me and move on."

"You know I would never—"

"Blaise, I love you and I am gonna need you to shut up for the next ninety seconds."

"Yes. I can do that."

"Okay."

"Except you know I would never choose anyone—"

"BLAISE!"

He went pink in the cheeks and mumbled, "Shutting up now."

"The first couple months we were together, I spent that time trying to convince myself I was worthy of you. I mean, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. If we're honest, people who look like you don't marry poor bastards who look like me."

Blaise bit down on his tongue a bit to keep from saying any of the replies threatening to pour out of his mouth. _I only wish there was a way to make you see yourself the way I see you. I would empty my Gringotts vault if that is what it took to make you smile. God, I am counting the seconds until you ask me the four words I know are coming._

"When I started keeping clothes in your closet I figured this was real, but I overlooked everything that was so real before then! The way you hold me like I am the most precious thing you could ever have, which is quite the compliment from a man with enough money to buy Europe. I love that you always have breakfast ready by the time I am out of the shower. You kiss me and I feel like the world stops. It is just you and me; nothing bad can ever happen in those moments."

Blaise felt the same.

"Last Christmas I couldn't decide what to get you as a gift. I had already mucked up your birthday and didn't want to fail you again. Do you remember what you said when I finally asked what you wanted?"

"Of course," Blaise answered. He sniffled. "I said every night I fall asleep with you in my arms is a gift. Every morning I wake up to you makes the day worth living. Whatever happens in between, I only want you to be happy."

Dean nodded and spun the ring box between his fingers.

"That's right. And at that moment I finally understood you were in love with me just as much as I was in love with you."

"I have never been as happy as I have been with you."

"Blaise, you are the most amazing person I have ever met. You cook wonderful food, you shag like a dream, and you knit the softest blankets. Seriously, if you think I am anything less than ecstatic about that jumper-"

"Can you just ..." Blaise trailed off and wiped some of the watery buildup from his eyes.

"Oh no, shit, is it too much? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you bloody git!" Blaise glanced at the Christmas tree because looking at Dean right then was too overwhelming. "You are saying all the right things and I want to hear more."

Dean grinned.

"When I thought about what to get you for Christmas this year, I couldn't find anything that said what I wanted to say to you. So I asked myself, 'What is it that I want to tell him?' I realized I want to spend every Christmas with you for the rest of my life. Every single fucking one, Blaise. I don't care if you're in London or Modena or New York or some obscure city somewhere that's the only place in the world that grows a specific type of fruit. I want to be with you because I love waking up with you, too."

"Oh my God, this is really happening." Blaise was crying, happy tears making trails down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the end of his sleeve. "You try to love so many people. You want to be such a good person, you look for the best in everyone, and after watching you this past year I understand how much effort it takes. I keep working to make sure I am worthy of you loving me because I wanted this with all my heart; wanted to be the one person you love more than anyone else."

"I plan to make you work for it," Dean teased. His smile widened. "I will love you as long as you keep knitting me blankets and jumpers and cooking the best dinners I've ever had."

"And I will love you long past the time you no longer have abs and a great arse."

"Many, many years from now, then."

"Many years," Blaise said as he lost control of his own smile. He grinned so hard his face was liable to break apart with the force of it. "So many years, decades, centuries ..."

Dean raised his eyebrows and asked, "Centuries?"

"Do you doubt me?"

"Not at all."

"Then will you ask me the question?"

There was a moment then when Blaise thought he might take it back. Nothing in life had ever been this wonderful and the part of his brain that always screamed Dean Thomas was too goddamn good to be true ... That part couldn't believe life was about to get better. Dean was right there, knee likely aching against the wood floor as his fingers trembled around a square red box.

He took a deep breath and said, "Blaise Zabini, it would be the greatest honour of my life to take your name."

Dean opened the box to reveal a ring Blaise didn't so much as look at, unable to tear his eyes away from Dean's.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Blaise pulled Dean off the floor and snogged him.

Dean smiled against his lips and pulled the ring from the box. He slid it onto the fourth finger of Blaise's free hand.

"God, I thought you would never get to the question," Blaise muttered. "Yes. Yes, yes, always."

Dean wrapped his arms over Blaise's shoulders and pulled him tight against his chest. Blaise placed his hands on Dean's waist and stood there, soaking in the transition from "boyfriend" to "fiance."

"It's not just about Christmas, you know."

Blaise tightened his hold and repeated, "I know. Being with you has been the best part of my life."

"Why's that?"

"Because when you say you love me, I believe you."

Dean stepped back far enough to look into Blaise's eyes and say, "I will never give you a reason to believe otherwise. I'll tell you that I love you every day for years, decades, _centuries_."

"Promise?" Blaise asked.

"Promise." Dean smiled then leaned toward the sofa. "Now, about that jumper ..."


End file.
